Hearts and Shadows
by Chibi's Sister
Summary: Drabbles off various couples, now accepting requests/suggestions. Chap 5: Public Transportation
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Drabblish responses to prompts, based on different BB couples. Equal opportunity (het) shipping, both couples I like and don't. No particularly continuity. First two are Terry x Dana and Terry x Max.

1. Evidence (Terry x Dana)

Somehow she had known it all along. Some subconscious part of her brain had noticed everything: not just the broken dates, unexplained absences, and the sleeping in class, but the mysterious bruises, the slight gain in bulk and definition, and the determined set of his jaw, and understood what all of it meant. It was just, until that moment, when he pulled off the cowl, she hadn't known that she knew.

2. I'm Here (Terry x Max)

She had always known it would be bad when Dana finally broke up with him. She just hadn't realized it would be this kind of bad. She had expected frustration, moodiness, relentless flirting with the attractive females that constantly crossed his path both as Batman and Terry McGinnis. She hadn't expected this…_wrath_.

"Batman! Stop!" She shoves the unfortunate lowlife out of the way, and knocks away the Dark Knight's arm as he tries to shoot a grappler after him.

Foiled, he grabs her instead and before she can quite react, she's pinned against the warehouse wall. "Don't ever do that again," he growls, sounding scarily like the old man in January.

She doesn't say, "He didn't know anything," even though it's true.

She doesn't say, "You went too far," which is true, but obvious.

She doesn't say, "Of course I'll do it again—whenever you need me to," though that's also true, and he'll know it as soon as he's thinking clearly again.

Instead, she says, "I'm here," and pulls off her cowl. There's only a split second hesitation before he does the same, and then his mouth is on hers and she can taste weeks, months, maybe even years of bitterness and frustration, and passion, oh, the passion.

She doesn't tell herself that this is dangerous, even though it's true.

She doesn't tell herself that she's just a replacement for Dana, because she's too smart to bore herself with the obvious.

She doesn't tell herself that this will only end badly eventually, though she's talked to the Commissioner, and she knows how these things go.

She just kisses him back, just as hard and desperate, because she's here, and that's all that really matters right now.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Drabblish responses to prompts, based on different BB couples. Currently accepting couple requests. Only stipulations are that they have to be het, non-incestuous, and no really icky age gaps (For example, Kai-Ro x Merina would be okay, but Bruce x Max would be icky)

* * *

3. Funeral (Bruce x Barbara)

_He's dead he's dead he's dead he's dead he's dead_

It pounds through her brain, as furious and relentless as the beat of her heart.

_He's dead he's dead he's dead he's dead he's dead_

Nothing will be the same now. It's over. It's all over.

_He's dead he's dead he's dead he's dead he's dead_

She falls to her knees and as the sobs choke out of her, she knows its not the man that she's mourning, but the death of an ideal.

"Batgirl. Get up."

It's not just Bat-brusque, anymore; it's bitter, sharp and rough like a rusted shank. But she obeys, instinctively, because her mind is still numb, frozen except for the blaring thought that shudders through it. She balls her hands into fists, but they still tremble.

"What do we do now?" she hears her own voice asks, or rather a thin, shuddery shadow of it.

She stares up into the eyes of the greatest man she has ever known, and watches the darkness of the abyss smolder and seethe. "We fight," he says, as if it should be obvious, as if nothing has changed, except that everything has. Except that now they don't just fight for justice and for hope, but they fight for redemption. They fight for their sanity, and their souls.

And she knows then what her heart only faintly guessed before.

"Barbara? Hon, are you alright?"

She looks up slowly, eyes lingering on the still figure within the massive black casket. "Yes, dear," she whispers to her husband of forty years, and squeezes his hand. "Just a lot of memories."

She shakes her head and swallows back the lump in her throat. She cleans her glasses, although that won't help her blurry vision. "He was a great man, you know," she says, still reluctant to move on, although the line behind her is growing restless.

She reaches out and takes the hand of her mentor, her partner, her idol, and her friend for the last time, and says, simply, "I loved him."

* * *

4. Puppy Love (Barbara x Dick)

"In college," she says, and remembers, through closed eyes, years of flirting, smiles, and secrets, and the shared, indescribable thrill of hurtling through the night on a slender batline, and the everyday romance of a conversation over a cup of coffee, and the passion of a weekend at the coast, and the heady enthrallment of seeing your future in someone else's eyes, and then all the bitter longing, lonely jealousy, desperate hoping, and carefree banter to cover it all. And then she shakes her head. It was puppy love, she says, and with a smile, dismisses it all.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Have pretty much dropped the livejournal prompt part, but still accepting couple requests. Marie Nomad, yours turned out complicated, and I'm not done with it. It may end up being an independent deal--if I manage to finish it. This one's for Jadeling, who wanted a Warren x Mary. It ended up being different than I expected. A fun and a little crazy different. A bit like college!Mary.

* * *

5. Chemicals React

Some freshman chemistry student who should never have been allowed within ten feet of a Bunsen burner had managed to set the lab on fire and the entire science department was being evacuated until all the chemically-tinged smoke dissipated from the building. Warren trudged out the door, ignoring the hysterics from the group of freshmen girls or the excited laughter from the cluster of upperclassmen. He wondered how long it would be until the labs reopened and if the smoke would contaminate his _E. coli_ sample.

"Hey, you!" With a start, Warren looked up to see a girl with short red hair. She looked vaguely familiar; he thought maybe he'd seen her once or twice in the astronomy lab. She smiled at him. "Cheer up; we're getting out of lab early."

"And that's supposed to be a good thing?" Warren muttered.

"Yes!" The girl laughed. "You're not one of those no-fun nerds, are you?"

There was something so inviting about the way her green eyes crinkled when she laughed, that—even though he probably_ was_—Warren had to stutter, "N-no."

"Well, in that case, do you wanna catch a movie?"

"W-what?" Warren stared at her in utter confusion.

The girl grinned. "Sorry. It's a bet, you see." She gestured over her shoulder to where a small cluster of upperclassmen girls were standing. "The things we science majors do for fun around here," she said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "I stand to make twenty bucks if you agree to go out with me." She winked at him. "I'll split it with you," she told him conspiratorially. "Five dollars if you say yes."

"Who would need to be bribed to go out with you?" Warren blurted before he could think. He instantly reddened. He looked down at his feet and noticed that the girl had a red heart tattooed on her ankle.

To his surprise, the girl just threw back her head and laughed. "So it's a date, then?" she asked between chuckles.

"Um, yeah." This was probably some strange hallucination induced by breathing in chemical smoke, but hey, chemically-induced hallucinations were hard to come by when you didn't do drugs.

"Awesome." The girl linked her arm with his. "By the way, my name's Mary."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry that I've been absent. I took April off to write scripts for Script Frenzy... scripts that I am now turning into stories so I can post them here. ^^ Anyway, this is neither the Supes x Mary story that is still in progress, nor is it the Max x Zander story that I have every intention of writing one of these days. Instead, I bring you a Terry x Melanie oneshot that was mostly written in class (for some reason I get all of my best ideas in class). It's basically the scene from "King's Ransom", from Terry's pov.

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6. Futile

Her eyes widen when she sees him, but she controls herself quickly. No quick rush of aggression, no wild flight. After all, she has nothing to hide, does she? She just lowers her eyes and her shoulders shrug just slightly, as if to say, "I should have expected you."

What she says aloud is, "I didn't have anything to do with it. I haven't heard from my family in months."

"I know," he says, because he does. He was there that day, after all, and watched as she let her family go. He's kept tabs on her ever since—the restaurant she works at, the cheap apartment she lives is, the train she takes every morning. He told Wayne he was just keeping his enemies close. Wayne had raised his eyebrows in that way he had and smiled that thin sliver of a smile. _"Uh-huh."_

Wayne would want to know the reason he had come tonight, when he already knew Melanie hadn't been involved. "If you should happen to hear anything…" he begins.

"I _won't_." She hugs the cup of coffee closer to her, as if its warmth is comforting. Her voice is bitter and her eyes are dark. "I don't exist to them anymore."

He wants to say "I know" to that too, because he does. But that would mean admitting—to himself, as well as to her—that he knew he wouldn't get any information from her tonight, that his reason for coming had been different.

What had his reason for coming been? To satisfy himself that she hadn't gone back to her life of crime? To see if civilian life had changed her, taken that cynical edge off her sharp personality? Just to see her? If he couldn't explain it to himself, there was no way he could explain it to her. Silently, he turns away.

"Wait!"

He stops and turns his head. Out of the corner of his eye he can see her—the slight trembling of her fingers and the strain of her neck betraying her agitation.

Her fingers twist on the handle of the mug in her hands. "The letter I gave you, the one for Terry McGinnis…?"

His heart slams against his chest and he closes his eyes. And there it is, the reason for this visit, the one he's been dancing around and lying to himself about. He can't pretend to himself that he doesn't care, can't deny that some part of him just wants to wrap her in his arms and never let go.

But they're from two different worlds and even though Melanie's gone straight—_for now_, Wayne's voice, cynical with long experience, echoes meaningly in his head—he knows he can never truly trust her. Not when it's not just his life, but Wayne's, and Gordon's, and Mom's and Matt's, and all the others' who came before.

Not when there's Dana, and the light of hope that he always sees in her eyes—the hope of a better world, of a life where he's worthy of all the love and the trust that she gives him over and over, no matter how badly he abuses it.

He swallows and forces his voice to be as cold and dark as the shadows that fill the alley. "He got it," he tells her, and turns away so he won't see the way her eyes drop and her mouth twists bitterly. But he hears her sigh and he hears the splash as she tosses out the last of her coffee.

"I guess I don't exist to him, either, she says, and he can hear the hurt under the morose resignation.

It isn't true, he knows, but doesn't say, as he walks away. But maybe it would be better for both of them if it were.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This was originally going to be the first chapter of a longer story, but I realized I was never going to get around to writing it. So I dusted it off, edited a bit, and figured I'd give you people an update after...forever. Kinda light on the romance, but again, it's a beginning. Enjoy.

* * *

Public Transportation

* * *

"Oh, come on," Melanie muttered just under her breath as the red light flashed on the card reader. No credits left. Slaggit, she was going to miss the train. She frantically fished in her purse for another cred card, letting the one that the machine had rejected fall to the floor of the train station. Finally, she found one. Holding her breath, she slid it through the reader. To her relief the green light flashed and the gate opened.

She sprinted towards the platform. The automatic doors were beginning to close. "No!" she shouted, reaching out desperately. Then they stopped. That annoying electronic beeping started, but Melanie didn't care as she hurried aboard the train. As soon as she was inside, a lanky African American guy pulled his arm back inside the train and the doors closed.

"Thanks," Melanie said, still trying to catch her breath. "My boss'll sack me if I'm late for work again."

"No problem," her unexpected ally said easily.

The train lurched into motion, and Melanie quickly found a seat along the side of the car. The guy sat beside her. She studied him out of the corner of her eye. He was about her own age, a half a head taller than her, broad-shouldered, but not husky in any sense of the word. He had a long-jawed, genial face and warm brown eyes that were actually quite attractive. Maybe…

No. Melanie reined in her wayward thoughts. Her cycle of short-lived physical relationships was part of the life she'd sworn to shed with the Ten persona. Hadn't she learned her lesson with Terry? Besides, she had way too much going on in her life right now for a boyfriend.

Tossing her head almost imperceptibly, she continued her surreptitious perusal of her companion. She couldn't quite place him into any of the usual categories. His clothes were top-quality, but the styles were a couple of months old and they looked well-worn. Same deal with his shoes—expensive, but scuffed.

"So," he said casually, interrupting her thoughts, "where do you work?"

"Deckard's Kitchen," Melanie told him, surprising herself with both her automatic response and the note of pride in her voice. Sure, being a dish-scrubber at a three-star restaurant like Deckard's wasn't exactly an exalted accomplishment, but it was a job, a real, honest job, and it was all hers.

"Schway," he said. "I love that place."

'You've been to Deckard's?" Melanie asked curiously, latching on to any clue of where to place him in her scheme of things. Deckard's was one of those in-between kind of places, classier than the chains, like Olive Garden, but nowhere near the same class as Parisian fine-dining. Her father would never have dreamed of darkening its door, back in the day, and now Melanie would never have been able to afford the place. One of life's little ironies.

He was nodding. "Mom's boyfriends were always taking me to lunch there when things got serious. Trying to impress me, I guess." From the wry wrinkle of his nose and the slight shake of his head, Melanie gathered it hadn't worked very well.

"So you liked it then?" Melanie pressed lightly. "No bad memories?"

"Of the guys, sure, but I didn't let them affect my appetite." He patted his stomach with a grin. Melanie smiled too, but she couldn't imagine someone as skinny as him had much trouble keeping his appetite in check. "Deckard's has great food."

"Wouldn't really know," Melanie sighed. She had an employee discount card, but ten percent off a twenty dollar entrée was still way more than she could afford to spend on dinner, or even lunch. Maybe things would get better now that Jack was with her. With two salaries going towards the rent, things were found to loosen up a little.

"You don't even get to taste-test your own creations?" he asked in surprise.

Melanie laughed. "Sorry, but I'm no chef. Just a lowly scullery-maid, really, although I have a lovely 21st century job title." She tossed her head a little, refusing to feel ashamed of her job. "And you?" she asked. It was almost a challenge. In a more conciliatory voice, she added, "I mean, where are you off to? Job?"

He shook his head. "School. I'm a senior at Hamilton Hill High."

Oh yes, school. A hollow sort of feeling flitted though the pit of Melanie's stomach. Without a high school diploma, would she ever be able to get a job that didn't involve scraping mashed potatoes off plates?

"What about you?" he asked. "Graduate?"

"No," Melanie said slowly. "I was home-schooled."

"That's pretty schway."

"I guess." Melanie looked away. "Then I…had a falling-out with my parents. I'm on my own now."

"I'm sorry," he said. "That's got to be tough."

Caught off-guard by the sincerity in his voice, Melanie swallowed, and said. "Yeah, it is." The moment of vulnerability passed, and the brash self-reliance reasserted itself. "But I'm managing just fine."

"Sure," he replied easily, smoothing her ruffled feathers. "I've got a part-time job at Watson's Hardware myself."

"Really?" Melanie said with interest. So he frequented Deckard's, but he had a part-time job. Not an entitled rich kid then—as if the public transportation didn't make that obvious, anyway—but he couldn't be that hard up for money. Middle class, then? Despite plenty of people-watching—the one hobby that had lasted through the countless moves—Melanie confessed difficulty gauging the nuances of the middle classes. Her family had only been interested in the upper crust. So while she could have distinguished a twenty carat diamond from a twelve carat in a glance, she couldn't tell just where scuffed Nike Invictus sneakers placed him in the socioeconomic strata.

He was nodding. "It's not much," he said, "but it's a job."

Melanie smiled. "Now that I understand."

He smiled too. "Look," he started to say, "do you think maybe…"

The train lurched to a stop, and Melanie glanced out the window. Quickly, she sprang to her feet. "Sorry, it's my stop." she said. As the doors slid open, Melanie hesitated slightly. Instincts honed over years of trying to cover her tracks screamed at her, but she fought them back, covering the struggle with a smile. "Melanie Walker," she said, extending her hand with a smile.

He grinned back, taking her hand. "Jared Tate.

She threw a last glance over her shoulder as she glided out of the bus. "Nice to meet you, Jared."

"Likewise, Melanie," she heard him say. Then the doors closed behind her and the train hurtled away.


End file.
